Harlie

Fold the little waxen hands Lightly. Let your warmest tears Speak regrets, but never fears,-- Heaven understands! Let the sad heart, o'er the tomb, Lift again and burst in bloom Fragrant with a prayer as sweet As the lily at your feet. Bend and kiss the folded eyes-- They are only feigning sleep While their truant glances peep Into Paradise. See, the face, though cold and white, Holds a hint of some delight E'en with Death, whose finger-tips Rest upon the frozen lips. When, within the years to come, Vanished echoes live once more-- Pattering footsteps on the floor, And the sounds of home,-- Let your arms in fancy fold Little Harlie as of old-- As of old and as he waits At the City's golden gates.